


The Luck is Gone,  the Brain is Shot,  but the Liquor We Still Got.

by ermengarde



Category: GlamRPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:05:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ermengarde/pseuds/ermengarde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein: Tommy is a bartender with dreams of being a musician, even if he gets a little sidetracked sometimes, Adam is an <em>amazing</em> singer and Cassidy drinks too much but occasionally gives quite sage advice.</p><p> </p><p>A Lambliff <em>Cocktail</em> A.U.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Luck is Gone,  the Brain is Shot,  but the Liquor We Still Got.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelnetgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelnetgirl/gifts).



> This is all Tommy Joe Ratliff's fault. If he hadn't of tweeted about _Cocktail_ this morning, this would never have fucking happened.
> 
>  
> 
> For Angelnetgirl, who has been getting emails from me all day saying things like: _and now I have to turn "Cue Adam: OMG Glomp, Wheeeeeeee *snogging*" into fic_. She is amazing and I  <3 her.

"...make rent or you're on the street, Ratliff!" The front door slams shut behind Tommy, cutting off the rest of Sean's diatribe. It's not like Tommy's ever missed rent before, yanno? Sean's just being a dick because he found out Tommy got fired from the fucking cubicle-rat job he's been just about holding down since he moved in.

It was a fucking shit job anyway, and Tommy kept getting yelled at for being late or falling asleep at his desk, but they wanted him to start at fucking eight a.m. every fucking day and sometimes he was out playing 'til, like, three...Tommy scuffs his foot along the sidewalk. Maybe his supervisor was right, maybe it's time to grow up and stop trying to make it.

 

Tommy applies for, like, fourteen million jobs, but no one even bothers calling him back. He's doing his best to avoid Sean, which is hard in their tiny apartment, and Sean's taken to leaving really fucking pointed messages on the fridge. The latest one just says _RENT DUE: TUESDAY_ , and Tommy's got five days to get two hundred bucks together and that feels fucking impossible. He does not want to have to go back to his mom's.

He's half-wondering about, like, hustling or some shit when he walks past _O'Cleary's_ and sees a _Help Wanted_ sign in the window. _O'Cleary's_ has a decent enough reputation; it started out as an Irish bar in the eighties and has pretty much morphed into a regular local bar with good music on the weekend in the thirty years since. Tommy turns back and pushes open the door; maybe he can make enough in, like, tips or shit to cover rent.

"We're closed, man." A tall, kinda funny looking guy is lifting kegs into some kinda closet behind the bar. He's fucking built.

"I know, I, uhh," Tommy waves his hand at the window. "There's a job?"

The guy dumps the keg into the closet and pulls the door closed. "There might be. What experience you got, kid."

Tommy tries really fucking hard not to roll his eyes. "I'm nearly thirty, dude." He doesn't have any fucking experience though. "I, uh, drink a lot?"

The guy snorts. "What've you been doing for the last nearly-thirty, then?"

Tommy's not entirely sure why he's not been told to fuck off yet, but the vibe he's getting from this dude is actually kinda good. "A bunch of shitty day jobs, anything to make rent and let me play, yanno?" He shrugs. "Guess it's time for me to find something new, my music's not really going places and I don't think I can stick another office job." His heart feels kinda heavy in his chest; he's had this dream of making music since he was a fucking kid and this job...if he gets a job in a bar he can pretty much kiss his music goodbye. He takes a deep breath. "I can learn quickly."

The guy smiles and sticks out his hand. "Hi, I'm Cassidy, and I'm your new boss."

Tommy shakes Cassidy's hand and grins at him.

"Yep, that smile will take you far." Cassidy winks. "So, guys or girls?"

"What?"

"Tail, man, you think musicians get a lot of tail? Bar tenders get even fucking more."

"Uhh, girls, I guess."

"You guess?" Cassidy eyes him up and down like he's some kinda meat.

"Yeah, girls." Tommy glares. Cassidy's his boss now; this is totally, like, sexual harassment.

"Cool, I'm kinda easy, but guys are more my thing, anyway." Cassidy grabs a cocktail shaker from behind the bar and waves it at Tommy. "Right, so, time to learn your trade."

Tommy learns a bunch of basic cocktails, and some more mundane shit like changing the keg and pouring beer without exploding foam all over the place, and after a couple of hours he feels like he just might be able to do this job. Cass gives him a book with every cocktail recipe, ever, in it and he sticks it in his pocket. He'll learn it as he goes and he figures people would rather he looked shit up than didn't know in the meantime.

Cass sends him home to get showered and changed at about three in the afternoon. "You need to look pretty to make good tips. You ever think about wearing eyeliner?"

Tommy does a double take. "Uhh, I've worn it some, like, on stage and shit?"

Cass grins. "Behind this bar, Ratliff, you _are_ on stage." He sticks his hip out and poses which cracks Tommy's shit up. Cass sticks his tongue out. "Do you play guitar or bass, anyway?"

"Uhh, both." Tommy shrugs.

"You any good?"

"Good enough, but," Tommy shrugs again. "Not, like good _enough."_

Cass nods, like he understands what that means. "Bring your instruments along tonight, or, like, older ones if you've got them, so you can leave them here. We have bands that need someone to fill in all of the fucking time."

Tommy walks back home feeling lighter than he has in a while.

 

Tending bar with Cassidy is a whole fucking lot of fun. Cass seems determined to show Tommy that this is a cool job, too, that it's not just a dead-end sucky alternative to music, and he's fucking right about all the tail... everybody, just about, hits on Tommy, and Cass bitches about how he should not have hired someone prettier than himself. Cass has a fucking hot body though, so he just takes his shirt off when he feels like Tommy's gotten too much attention. They do split it, pretty much, guys to Cass, girls to Tommy, although Cass sometimes asks if Tommy minds him taking this one particular girl and Tommy sometimes wonders what it would be like to go home with one of the hot guys that spend so much time trying to convince him he's bendy.

There is a whole lot of drinking.

Cassidy pretty much feels like the day hasn't started until he's had an Irish coffee and Tommy's totally down with that, sometimes it's the only way to shift the hangover from the night before. They never get toasted when the bar's open, but sometimes, after hours, if the band's been great, or one of their conquests is worth a little talking to as well as a little time in the back room, or if it's, like, a Tuesday, they drink their tips. Tommy's making more than enough to cover rent and it's not like he needs his money for going out or getting to band practice anymore.

 

He does still play, sometimes, sets up his guitar and noodles around a little while the bar's quiet, fills in for bands who need a bassist or whose guitarist fell down the stairs or got a flesh eating virus or whatever. He's... he's pretty content. It's not the life he pictured for himself, but he's _good_ at bar tending, people like him, and he still has music.

 

Most of the bands that play at _O'Cleary's_ are regulars, playing every week or month or whatever, and they range from not totally terrible up to actually kinda fucking amazing. There's this one singer, Adam, who's just... He makes Tommy's brain stutter, he's so good. His band isn't all that hot, though; his drummer is good and his guitarist doesn't totally suck, but his bassist... oh man.

Tommy tries really hard not to bounce with sheer glee when he hears that the guy's been in a car wreck and broken his arm. He figures that it's kinda mean, how happy he is about it. He really can't fucking hold it in though, not when Adam calls Cass and asks if Tommy would be able to fill in.

Because Tommy's still got all of his regular work to do, even when he's playing, the band come and rehearse at _O'Cleary's_. It's kinda cool, actually, Cass gives them some really useful feedback and it's a great space to play and, fuck, Adam's motherfucking _voice_.

Cass keeps teasing him about the crush he's got on Adam, but it's not that, really, Adam is, like, amazingly fucking talented and, like, the nicest guy on the _planet_ and so what if Tommy would rather hang over the bar and talk to Adam when he comes in than chase skirt all the damn time. It's not a crush, Tommy is straight, it's just, Adam is his friend and only douches ignore their friends so they can get laid.

Tommy still gets laid way more than the average person on the nights when Adam's got a gig at some other place or whatever anyway.

It's not a crush that makes him get Cass to back off flirting with Adam, it's just that Cass is a fuck 'em and move on kinda guy and Adam really isn't. Adam deserves someone who'll treat him better than that, like, whatever, worship him or some shit.

 

There's this one night, after Tommy's played a set with Adam and is getting his own body weight in tips and Adam's got a crowd around him, and Adam seems to be getting really into this one guy who's hanging off of him. Tommy's not staring or anything but he totally doesn't rate the skinny, twinky guy, and he totally doesn't start drinking early when Adam disappears outside with him.

 

There's this older woman at _O'Cleary's_ that night, Vanessa, she's like, in her forties maybe, but still fucking smoking, all sleek and sophisticated and, like, powerful? And she's making such a fucking play for Tommy. It's really fucking flattering and he's really fucking drunk and she brings him the _best_ fucking coffee in bed the next morning when he's too fucking hung-over to even think, and then she fucking blows him. It's kinda awesome.

Vanessa kinda just keeps showing up after that. She pretty much takes over the stool at the end of the bar, where Adam used to sit, and Tommy goes home with her more often than not. Cass doesn't seem to like her all that much, but she's a fucking good lay and she gets Tommy shit, like this fancy suit, so he doesn't feel like a scruffy low-life when they go out to lunch and shit. She's not like his _girlfriend_ or anything, he's not going to take her home to meet his mom, but it's kinda nice to have someone, like, regular. He's not torn between her and Adam, either; Adam's stopped coming to the bar so often anyway and his bassist's all healed up (and still shit) now.

 

It's like a week after Tommy's birthday (fucking thirty man, jeeze) and he's really fucking drunk. Vanessa's being kinda bitchy but he just puked on her lawn, so maybe that's the problem.

"Tommy, this isn't cute anymore."

"Dun wanna be cute." Tommy's pretty sure he's not slurring, but it's taking a bit of effort.

"You're thirty; you need to take a bit more responsibility for your life."

Tommy snorts. "You're not m'fuckin' _mom_ , dun fuckin' fuck m'mom."

Vanessa pulls her mouth into a frown and it makes Tommy feel like a shit. "I was... I got you a present, for your birthday."

What? She gave him a fucking present last week, these gold cuff things for the suit she got him. "What? You already gave me those cuff-link things."

Vanessa cups her hand round his jaw. Her hands always feel so cool and smooth. "They were just." She smiles. "I just like you to look nice, Tommy, this present's for _you_."

Oh. Ohh... maybe she's got him that Fender he's been lusting after for fucking months, that'd be sweet.

Vanessa's pulling some papers out of her purse, though, and that's really not a guitar. Tommy tries not to frown; it might still be something cool.

"Here you go, baby," She hands over this sheaf of close-typed paper and he tries to focus enough to read it. "It's your own place."

Tommy looks at her, confused. He _has_ a place, with douchy Sean in it, but still.

"Look." She flicks through the pages until she finds some bold text. " _Cocktails and Dreams."_ , your own bar, you're not just the hired help any more."

What the actual fuck? "But _O'Cleary's?"_

"Was a good place for you to learn, but you're so much better than that, now."

"Cass...." He tries.

Vanessa screws up her mouth. "Well, you can hire him if you want to. He's not a terrible bar manager."

"I..." Tommy literally has nothing to say. Vanessa's bought him a fucking bar and it's so far from his dreams that it might as well be a lump of Jell-O.

"You don't need to say thank you now, baby, I know it's a little overwhelming" Vanessa kisses him. "Why don't you come to bed? You can thank me when you're sober."

_Cocktails and Dreams_ is... it's nice, like, it's obviously got money behind it and Tommy can't even imagine anyone getting into a fight here, and Cass is kinda excited to start work.

"Just think of the whole new class of tail I'll get working in a joint like this, Tommy. Maybe I can pick up a sugar mama just like you." Cass grins. "Or a sugar daddy, I'm not fussy."

Tommy scowls at him. "V's not my sugar mama, she's just..."

"An older woman who wants to buy your affection with a fucking sweet bar like this?" Cass gestures. "It's a good deal, man, I'm not knocking it, not at all."

"You make me sound like a prostitute."

"Hey, if the cap fits." Cass ducks out the way as Tommy throws a wet bar towel at his head. "It's a noble profession Tommy, and it looks as if you're really fucking good at it."

 

Vanessa gets this look when she sees Tommy drinking, so he tries to keep it down, just having, like an Irish coffee in the morning or whatever, or.... most of his fucking coffees are Irish, but what the fuck ever, he's never more that lightly buzzed and it's not like she knows.

Cass doesn't have those kinds of brakes on him, though, and the clientele at C _ocktails_ are really fucking generous, big tips and generous gifts of blow and pills.

Tommy's half-thinking about what the fuck he needs to do to get Cassidy straightened up a little when Vanessa fucking makes the decision for him.

Tommy comes in from a supply run to find her screaming at Cass. "I don't fucking _care_ who hired you, I own this place and you're fucking fired!"

Cass pushes past Tommy and walks out of the door without looking back. Tommy is gaping at Vanessa like a fish.

"What the _fuck_ was that?!" He's so angry he's practically vibrating. This is _his_ place, that was the whole fucking point, and Cass is _his_ friend and _his_ problem.

Vanessa makes a contrite face. "I'm sorry baby; I know it's your place, but..."

"Then why did you tell him it was yours?" Tommy's fingers keep clenching into fists

"Baby..."

"Don't fucking _baby_ me" Tommy punches the smoked mirror by the bar. It's pretentious and he fucking hates it and he takes a grim kind of satisfaction in watching it shatter.

"He's a drunk, an addict, I caught him stealing!" Vanessa looks wide-eyed and scared. "From the safe, I caught him taking money from the safe.

Tommy is panting, like he's run a mile, he can't get his breath properly, his chest _hurts_.

"I know he's your friend and I didn't want you to have to do it, I wanted to save you from having to fire him. I did it for you baby." Vanessa starts to cry, and Tommy feels like a total shit.

"How much." Tommy grits out. "How much did he take?"

Vanessa takes a step towards him, puts her hand on his wrist. His knuckles are bleeding. "Oh Tommy... he had three thousand dollars in his pocket."

Tommy lets Vanessa lead him to the sink to clean out his hand.

 

Vanessa takes charge of interviewing for new staff and Tommy lets her. He sleeps the mornings away and rolls into the bar just as it's opening so he can be the charming cocktail maker, flirting with the clientele and performing behind the bar every night.

Tommy is fucking miserable but he figures it's just his age or something, like an early midlife crisis. He's got an amazing business and a beautiful girlfriend. He'll work through it.

 

 

Vanessa decides that they need a redesign. "We've had that picture up to cover the broken mirror for months, Tommy; it's time we got this place totally in line with our vision now. I'll get some people in."

Tommy doesn't much care, as long as he can reach all his bottles and shit it won't make much difference to him.

 

He wakes up early one day, like before noon, and he heads down to the bar to get the coffee started. The apartment upstairs from _Cocktails_ has a coffee maker, but it's a piece of shit and he hasn't bought groceries for months.

Vanessa is there, with some people, and Tommy pauses before he opens the door fully. He's, like, dressed, but only in scruffy jeans that are worn to holes and an ancient band shirt and Vanessa has _opinions_ on that shit.

"So, if you take all that boxing in away, and we move the dance floor over there, we'll up the number of tables by half and increase our standing capacity by what?"

Tommy's about to turn around, already half-tuned out from what Vanessa's saying. This business shit is so boring, but then the nerdy guy responds. "Twenty percent, if you go to the podium stage we discussed forty if we just take it away altogether."

 _Podium stage_?! What the fucking fuck?

"Oh, it doesn't make sense to keep the stage, not when we can up our capacity like that, the D.J. doesn't need the space."

 _D.J._! Tommy backs away from the door. They've not had many bands at _Cocktails_ , not like they did at _O'Cleary's_ , but fuck. This isn't his _vision_. This isn't his _vision_ at all.

Tommy takes the stairs two at a time back to the apartment, grabs his guitars and heads out of the street door. Nothing else in the apartment is his, it's all Vanessa's, all of it, all the clothes, the cell phone, fucking everything.

When did Tommy become this person?

 

Tommy's been walking for hours, his feet hurt in his beat-up boots and he's cold as fuck but he doesn't have anywhere to go, so he just keeps on walking, guitar in one hand, bass in the other.

 

"Hey, Tommy! Hey, man, come on, I know you heard me, _Tommy_!"

Tommy hears someone shouting at him, dimly penetrating through the rush of blood in his ears and the white noise in his brain. He stops. He's got nothing else to do.

"Hey, Tom..." Cassidy steps up in front of him. "Fuck, Tommy, what the hell happened to you, man?"

Tommy takes a long, slow breath. What the hell _did_ happen to him?

"Fuck." Cass looks worried and reaches down to take Tommy's bass out of his hand. Tommy lets it go. "Come on, my place is close by and you look worn out."

Tommy is worn out and he's got nowhere else to go, not really.

 

 

Cass' place is small, but clean and cozy and feels more like home than anywhere Tommy's been in months. Years even, maybe. Cass looks great, he's sober now, has this chip that he spins through his fingers when he's telling Tommy about how much better he is now, and how sorry he is for pulling Tommy down that path.

"What?" Tommy's sitting on Cass' couch, showered clean and wearing Cass' clothes. "You didn't pull me anywhere Cass! I, I should be apologizing for you, if I hadn't hooked up with V, if I hadn't gone with her and made you come to _Cocktails_ , if..."

"Tommy!" Cass sits next to him on the couch and wraps an arm around his shoulders. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why the fuck..." Tommy's eyes are filling with tears and his nose is blocked. He feels like a fucking idiot. He sniffs, hard. "Then why the fuck am I so unhappy?"

"Shhh." Cass pets his hair and lets him cry into his shoulder. "Because you let go of your dreams for a little while, but it's okay, you're okay, it's okay now."

 

 

Cassidy is back working at _O'Cleary's_ , except it's not _O'Cleary's_ any more, it's _Haley's_ , Cass has finally got his name over the door and he's paying back the old guy who used to own it, a couple hundred bucks at a time. It's a totally sweet deal, although Tommy thinks it must be difficult for an alcoholic, owning a bar, but Cass is _happy_. This is really what _he_ wanted and he looks totally settled in his own skin.

There's a guy, too, like, a regular, boyfriendy kind of guy and it’s his place that Cass brought Tommy back to. Their place, really. Tommy meets the guy before they head over to _Haley's_ that evening, his name is David and Tommy really, really likes him. David is quiet and funny and he looks at Cassidy like he hung the moon.

 

Adam is in the bar when they arrive, rehearsing for a set that night and his face just lights up when he sees Tommy.

Tommy feels like someone's hacking into his belly with a spoon, taking away every little part of him that lets him breathe and he lets David lead him back out again, back to the safety of the apartment, away from Adam.

Tommy misses Adam, okay, he's fucking always missed him, but he just can't do this right now, he can't, he needs to... "David, I can't I..."

"It's okay, Tommy. You don't have to."

"But, Adam, I..."

David looks at him, face serious. "You're in no state to see Adam right now, Tommy. Adam loves you, when he talks about you...no. You're a mess right now and you need to straighten up your head, first. We shouldn't have taken you to the bar, but... Cass said he thought you might love Adam back, but Adam was so fucking sure that you didn't, that you're straight and I believed him. You'd think I'd know by now that Cass has a talent for reading people."

"I am, straight, I mean."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Tommy shrugs, he's always just assumed that he is, he likes girls, it's not that complicated, except. Cass is right, he does love Adam and... Fucking sexuality crisis at thirty. Fuck. He snorts. "Maybe?"

"Yeah." David pulls Tommy into a hug and offers to drive him to his mom's.

"I feel like I'm running away." Tommy does a lot of running away, it feels like.

"Nah, you're just regrouping, Tommy. And you do need a roof over your head - Cass loves the shit outta you and I think you're okay, but this place isn't big enough for three people."

Tommy cracks a smile at that and gathers up his guitars and his dirty clothes. "I'll bring these back" he picks at the jeans that are rolled up a million times at the ankle "when they're clean."

 

Tommy's mom is over the moon to have him home. She fusses around him, about how he's so thin, about the fact he's got _nothing_ , but it feels safe and he feels like he can maybe start to find his feet again.

He calls some of his old band mates, gets hooked up with a couple of shows, fill ins for other people at first, and some more regular work as he proves himself. He signs on to a local music school and ends up with a bunch of regular students.

He also starts to maybe look at some of the guys who're in some of the bars he goes to, maybe goes out to one particular bar a couple of times. He's definitely... bendy. His type (predictably) is tall and dark, but he has a lot of fun with mister tiny-and-blond, too.

He still nearly _dies_ when his mom asks if Adam was special to him, if Tommy's maybe got something to tell her.

He does tell her, though, explains that Adam might've been the love of his life if he hadn't been such a fucking idiot and realized it in time. His mom just smiles and bakes for him.

After three months the cops come knocking on his door, but they go away again when he confirms that he is, indeed, Mr. Tommy Joe Ratliff and he's not missing, just living with his mom. He feels badly that Vanessa has to have been worried, when he just up and disappeared like that, but he doesn't feel badly enough to do anything else about it. Tommy's finally at peace with himself.

 

 

One of the drummers that he sometimes plays with gives him a call; the bassist of one of his side bands has mono (stupid fuck) and they need someone to fill in for this gig that they have, supporting some singer. It's nothing big but it could maybe go places.

The gig is at _Haley's_ and, well, maybe it's time. Tommy really needs to return Cass' clothes, needs to see him and David, not just talk to them on the phone.

Cass gives him the biggest hug when he walks in the door. "I didn't fucking think I'd ever see you doing this again."

Tommy shrugs and smiles. "S'what I do, man."

"Yeah," Cass smiles back. "Yeah it is."

They set up and Tommy goes straight to the board and starts putting the settings back to where he likes them. Cass will run the sound later, but he's busy right now and it's not like Tommy can't get things set up so that they'll at least sound tolerable.

So when Adam walks in, all tea and scarves, and hugs to everyone, Tommy is trapped behind the sound board.

Fuck. This gig is for Adam. Of course it fucking is. Isaac fucking sold this gig to Tommy as playing for the greatest singer _ever_ , so... "Hi, Adam." Tommy's hands are sweaty and he can feel his pulse racing.

"Tommy!" Adam's face lights up, but then it shades, slightly. "Hi?"

"I." Tommy swallows and steps out from behind the board. "I think I'm playing bass for you tonight?"

Isaac comes up between them, grinning. "You two know each other? Awesome. This is gonna be so great!"

"Uh, yeah." Tommy smiles at Isaac and then looks back at Adam. "Yeah, it should be?"

Adam looks at Tommy, really stares at him like he's trying to see something behind Tommy's eyes or something. "Yeah." Adam squeezes Tommy's shoulder. "Yeah, it should be great."

 

It feels... It feels fucking awesome just rehearsing with Adam again, and if his heart stutters every time he looks in Adam's direction or hears him or thinks about him or... well, it's just pre-show adrenaline and it's fucking amazing.

There's this weird energy between them, like there's Saran wrap or something just stopping them touching or breathing each other's air, but they're both professional and Tommy really wants to give his best performance ever, and... It’s weird but it's fine, they'll be fine. Tommy has to go outside to breathe when he thinks about later, about the time they're going to have _after_ , but he puts it in a box in his head and busies himself finishing set up and helping Cass at the bar.

 

The performance is _incredible_. It's like he forgot how good Adam was and Adam got better, too. They're mostly doing 80s covers, and the crowd are getting really into it and so are the band. Tommy couldn't stop head banging if you tied him to a board and Adam, fuck, Adam's on _fire_

Right near the end of their set they cover _Need You Tonight_ and Tommy kinda loves the INXS version, but fuck, Adam's got a range that Michael Hutchence never had and he takes the fucking _roof_ off where the original just growls and they're fucking around with the arrangement - the original's synth-heavy and they don't even have keys, but it sounds like fucking _magic_ and Adam's fucking around with the crowd, pulling them in and working them over and every last fucking one of them will be walking out the bar tonight like they got laid. And them Adam stalks over to Tommy and grabs his face, pulls him in and kisses him.

Tommy's knees buckle and his dick goes so hard, so quickly, that he's surprised he's got enough blood left in his brain to respond. He wants this, he wants Adam, he wants Adam's dick in his mouth even as he's sucking Adam's tongue, he wants Adam to touch him, to fuck him, to lick and bite at all of Adam's skin and _fuck_.

Adam only stops kissing Tommy when Cass shouts that they should get a fucking room.

 

Tommy's not quite sure how he finishes out the set or packs away his bass, and he's aware that Adam's hovering near the stage, watching him.

There are a million people in the bar who want to talk to Adam, or touch him, or, like, breathe in a little of his magic or whatever, but Adam just grabs Tommy's hand and pulls him through to the store room that the bands use as backstage.

"Tommy, fuck, I." Adam lets go Tommy's hand and starts pacing the room.

"What, Adam?" Tommy steps in front of Adam and puts his hands up. He's _this_ close to putting them on Adam's chest, so close to touching Adam, but he's not earned that and Adam dropped Tommy's hand as soon as the door closed, so...

"I, I'm so fucking sorry Tommy, I shouldn't, I..." Adam scrubs his hands over his face. "I know you're straight, I shouldn't have pushed you like that, fuck, I'm so sorry."

Oh. Oh that is fucking _it_. "Fuck, Adam." Tommy grabs Adam's wrists and pulls at his hands. "Push me all you fucking like, man, that, I, I'm not straight, I." Tommy stops and takes a deep breath. "I thought I was, for a long time, I like girls and it's easier and..." Tommy has to tighten his grip as Adam tries to pull his hands over his face again. "I'm not straight. Not at all. And you, fuck, you're _amazing_ Adam."

"You're not straight?" Adam's voice is barely a whisper.

"No. I'm, like, bi, I guess?" Tommy shrugs one shoulder and slides his hands up to meet Adam's, laces their fingers together.

"Yeah?" Adam has this tiny, almost-hopeful smile on his face.

"Yeah." Tommy smiles back and then bites his lip. He is _terrified_.

"And you like me?" Adam is trembling, Tommy can feel it.

"Oh fuck, yes." Tommy steps forwards until they're touching, chest-to-chest, before he lets go Adam's hands and slides his arms around Adam's neck. "Please, please kiss me now." All the air goes out of Tommy's lungs as he waits and the few moments before Adam dips his head feel totally endless.

It isn't like the kiss on stage, it's more tentative and far more gentle and it is _incredible_.

They are both breathless and Tommy's lips feel bruised when they finally pause. He's harder than he's fucking ever been and he can feel Adam's dick, just as hard, against his stomach.

Adam kind of massages Tommy's back, warm hands squeezing and flexing, but he's looking down at Tommy with an expression that Tommy doesn't like and doesn't want to see, so he turns his head and nestles into Adam's chest, fitting in underneath his chin.

"I really like you, Tommy, this was amazing, but," Adam pauses and then says all in a rush "but I can't be your experiment, I can't... I'm out, I need to be out, I need my relationship to be out, I can't, please."

Tommy freezes and lets his arms drop. Adam is not his fucking _experiment_ , what on fucking _Earth_ made him feel like he was Tommy's fucking experiment? But maybe. He's fucked this up so badly, maybe he's fucked it up _too_ badly? Maybe he's taken too long and he doesn't get to have this anymore. Maybe, fuck. Tommy feels like he's about to cry, like everything he's ever fucking wanted is about to be ripped away from him. He breathes in and it his breath shudders in his chest. "Can we just... can we just _be_ tonight, please?" He can't let Adam go, not now, maybe he can fix this, if he can only get Adam to give him some time, maybe, "I... just, can we go for a walk, maybe? Just us, no expectations or labels or shit?"

Tommy can feel Adam's chest stuttering against his cheek. "Yeah, yeah Tommy, we can do that."

 

 

Tommy and Adam walked the neighborhood until dawn, just talking and trying, gently, to find enough common ground. When the sun rose Tommy felt wiped out, empty, like a shell washed clean by the tide and he and Adam agreed that whatever this was, it wasn't over and that they'd talk again.

It's been a week, Tommy hasn't spoken to Adam, but maybe? It doesn't feel wrong that they haven't talked. They said so much and they needed to reset the balance of where they are with each other and that shit takes time and space and thinking.  
Tommy can't stop thinking about him, anyway.

He knows Adam is headlining a showcase at Cass' tonight, it's kind of a big deal, there will be label people there and shit, and Cass is driving David quietly insane with all his panicked planning about it. David calls Tommy to bitch about it, to check that Tommy's okay, to...just to touch base. Tommy's really glad that David is in Cass' life, because it means he gets to be in Tommy's, too.

 

Tommy doesn't want to distract Adam, not when the performance is so fucking important (his bassist is still a fucking pile of crap, though) so he stands right at the back where he's pretty sure that Adam won't be able to see his short ass.

Adam's performance is fucking _amazing_ and Tommy is _so_ fucking proud of him. He wants to tell the entire fucking room that that's his boyfriend, that that amazing, wonderful man is _his_. Tommy pushes round to the side of the bar and grabs his guitar from the store cupboard, Cass is on stage thanking everyone for coming and giving details of all the bands that played and when they'll next be on stage at _Haley's_ and he totally doesn't even fumble when Tommy catches his eye and waves his guitar. He just introduces "one final act, even though it's weird having someone on after the headliner. Fuck it, half of you already know him and I'm the fucking boss, anyway."

Cass grins as he hauls Tommy onto stage and gives him the good luck sign.

Tommy has no fucking clue what he's doing, but he needs to fucking do _something_ , so he plugs in his guitar and hopes Cass gets back to the board quickly enough to makes sure it's loud and there's no feedback. He takes a deep breath and leans in towards the mike "I'm not a fucking singer, but I want to play this song. It's for this dude I love and I hope you'll sing the words for me."

No one sings at first, which is probably fair enough, he's playing a stupid stripped back version of _Need You Tonight_ which doesn't even sound like itself. It feels like the room is holding its breath.

Then quietly, just on the edge of his hearing, Adam starts to sing, and he's fucking up the words a little bit, and he's kind of laughing, and when Tommy looks he can see that Cass is pushing Adam through the crowd towards the stage.

Tommy doesn't even _try_ to keep playing when Adam kisses him this time, he pushes his guitar round on its strap, out of the way and ignores the complaining scream of the strings.

He doesn't even notice when Cass cuts the feed from the pickup and the mike and puts on a CD, instead.

Eventually, Tommy has to pull back when his guitar strap threatens to cut off his breathing. "Fuck. You. Fuck." Tommy pulls the strap off of his throat.

Adam helps Tommy take his guitar off and pulls him into the quiet of the store room. "So, uh, you're out, then?"

Tommy smiles at him. "Dude, I came out to my mom before I even saw you again. I just needed to know I wasn't going to screw you over, I needed to be sure I could offer you what you deserve."

Adam makes a quiet noise at the back of his throat and gathers Tommy into the tightest, most enveloping hug he's ever had. It's wonderful. "So, we're gonna do this?"

"Fuck, yeah. I just, you're amazing Adam, I need to tell people that."

Adam laughs and kisses the top of Tommy's head. "Okay, yeah, we can do that, but only if I can tell them how amazing you are, too."


End file.
